Inspiring

Observed eastbound on Beacon St. approaching Washington Square, circa Shaws, a man pedaling up the hill in the cold driving rain, one hand on the handlebars, one hand grasping a shopping cart behind him full with bags of cans and bottles to recycle, navigating between parked cars on one side and heavy traffic on the other.

I blew past him thinking he is even crazier than I to ride in this weather, let alone drag a full shopping cart around. A block later I realized I had to stop, ride back, and talk to the guy. He had parked his cart and was rummaging for recyclables across the street behind the funeral home. His name was Mark; he said he was taking the recyclables somewhere in Allston. I told him what he needed was a cargo trailer, like the burley I drive my kids around in. I gave him my card and said to call and we could figure out a way to get him the gear he needs to do his important work more easily. I hope he calls. He needs to be recognized for being a living example of sustainability.

Ambiguity

As I was driving today, I had a moment that reminded me of a defining feature of being on a bike in traffic: ambiguity.

I was approaching an intersection where I knew I'd take a right. Lane markings seemed to indicate I was in the right lane, though there was rather a lot of room to my right. Sure enough, someone pulled up to my right, in spite of my turn signal. Perhaps the lane markings have been obliterated by a few seasons of snowplows, or perhaps (like many intersections in the area), lane markings there have always been a little ambiguous.

At any rate, I found myself wondering how this would play out. Would I need to let that driver slide ahead as I accelerated, and slip in behind him? Would the panel truck now behind him give me enough space? Should I try to get his attention & ask, with universal sign language, whether he was also planning to turn right, or whether he was going attempt to go straight?

All at once I realized that I was occupying the mental space of biking: most of my biking interactions with drivers involve this kind of ambiguity. Simultaneously, I realized that this kind of ambiguity was the exception, not the norm, for driving. Drivers, of course, have lane markings, signage, and traffic signals all working together to eliminate ambiguity. As drivers, we know where we're supposed to be, most of the time.

As bikers, we're always in that mental space of ambiguity, because the signs, markings & signals make no special case for us. And yet we're a special case. We're operating slow, human-powered vehicles with high maneuverability and no protective shell. Sure, we can attempt to make eye contact with drivers, raise our visibility by "taking the lane" and setting a straight course, and signaling turns and stops, but the fact is, in spite of doing all these things, I travel on my bike in a state of ambiguity that won't change until the road markings do.

As it turned out today in my car, the driver to my right turned right, and I followed, signaling. The panel truck made some room for me. I couldn't help but think that my experience of biker-ambiguity helped me as a driver.

But I'd still like bike lanes.

Bike Commuting Questionnaire

I just responded to a very brief questionnaire by some design students at Olin College. According to Boston Biker, "In this class they have to try to shed their assumptions and immerse themselves in the new culture, by observing, asking, and trying. When they actually start the ideation processes, they do so collaboratively, with the people they are designing for." This group has chosen bike commuters as a culture to "immerse themselves in." You can access the form here.

If you have any questions about the project, email them: bikecommuters.olin@gmail.com.

I responded, and it was kind of fun. Their questions and my responses (unedited) are below:

Why do you commute by bike?

I'm trying to do several things at once: get in shape (I'm 44 and sedentary), reduce my carbon footprint, and civilize the roadways by adding to them another human being not encased in tons of metal and not addicted to speed.

Tell us one of your most memorable bike-commuting stories

Westbound on Beacon Street at Boston College there's a huge hill. Several months into my commuting, I was pumping away without losing steam, and congratulating myself for not stopping to rest. Just then, a guy in spandex on a racing bike passed me at the steepest part of the grade, going all-out. I had a brief moment in which I thought, "hm... maybe I was a little too quick to congratulate myself," and then perspective returned as soon as a car passed me: I was still doing better than sitting motionless in a $26,000 wheelchair called a "car."

Have you made any modification to your bike, clothing, or gear that improves your biking experience?

My bike is a ten (or more) year old Raleigh mountain bike. I bought it used. I swapped out the off-road tires for puncture-resistant road tires, added front and back fenders, and bought a big, bright yellow waterproof pannier that's easy to lift off the rack. And lights, front and back. I'm still trying to figure out how to add a chain-guard. I'm not much of a gear-head. I just made the few changes that would make the bike useful for commuting, and that was that. I couldn't even tell you the model of bike. (Though I do wish I could afford an Amsterdam-style bike. And may, sometime down the line, rig out this bike with an Xtra-cycle extension, so I can do full grocery trips.)

Clothing? Not much. I bought a "skullcap" to wear under my helmet on cold days, and some inexpensive bike gloves (nice, because they have reflective tape on them) reflective velcro ankle-ties to keep my trousers out of the chain. I'm kind of a minimalist, though I appreciate other folks' displays of biking couture. I'm waiting for a particular European helmet company to start selling here: helmets that look like real hats.